


Bad Dreams

by Solrika



Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, intersecting traumas, lots of emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrika/pseuds/Solrika
Summary: Tron can't help that he looks like her nightmares, but it doesn't make waking her from them any easier.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to explore how Tron and Quorra's traumas and histories interact. I know this fandom is pretty dead, but I hope whoever's left enjoys this little character exploration!

She comes awake fighting, and it's only long decades of experience that keeps Tron from being clipped across the jaw. He can't help the anxious rattle in his chest, tries to clamp it down into silence as her wild eyes settle on his face. Quorra screams, "You killed them!" and he ducks another frantic swing, batting away her hands as they try to rake sharp fingernails down his face. He tries to speak and the words die in his throat, and she comes for him again and it's instinct that has him pinning her down, that damned noise reverberating against her skin. 

Quorra screams and thrashes and it's all he can do to keep her still without hurting, his rattle rising in distress. The room's dark. Tron wishes for the instantaneous lights of the Grid, where he could be pulling everything into clarity with a thought. User-side, there are no glowing blue circuits to mark him as himself, just the dark shape of his body, too ambiguous for comfort. He can feel the words stuck behind his lips, but they refuse to come, and the rattle peaks into a true growl in frustration. 

"Let me go!" Quorra yowls, panic and fury wrapped into one, "let me go damn you let me go, you killed everyone else _just let me go_ \--"

When he manages to grind out, " _Safe_ , b-br-r-r-r-reathe, br-r-r-r-reathe..." it feels like his throat is full of broken pixels. He coughs around the pain, deliberately gentles his hold so she can scramble away. 

They stare at each other across the bed, and Tron tries again to stifle the rattle in his chest. It works for a few seconds, before something in him seizes and he's coughing again. He can sense Quorra staring at him, and he scoots back, giving her room to scan their space. "Safe," he chokes out, and waves a hand at the bedroom. "Safe. Pr-r-r-romise." 

She sets her back to the headboard and fists her hands in the blankets, and he slithers off the bed to sit on the floor. No crowding--he's trying to learn the lesson, trying to stifle in the impulse to hop right back up and check her for stress fractures. The rattling he gives up for a lost cause, and he settles for muffling it in the curve of his elbow. It's a shoddy, ineffective solution, but User-side there's not much else he can do. 

He counts the seconds, listening to Quorra's breathing, pacing his own. He doesn't let himself relax when her rhythms start to even out, only allows a minute sag of his shoulders when she ventures, "Tron?"

"Her-r-r-re." He waves with his free hand. "Lights?" The bedside lamp clicks on, and he busies himself with scanning what he can see of her bare skin. No bruises, and his shoulders slump a little more in relief, but he refuses to accept it until he's gotten to conduct a closer look. "Bad dr-r-r-ream?"

"Yes." She fiddles with the blankets, refuses to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry I tried to hit you."

"Not your-r-r-r-r fault." Three words in a row--he takes the tiny victory and dares to perch on the edge of the bed, to push himself towards something resembling a proper sentence. "Can I r-r-r-r-run diagnostic?" 

She glances back. "I'm not hurt."

He exhales a short huff, keeps the rattle from peaking again. "Humor-r-r-r me." 

Quorra rolls her eyes, but beckons him forwards. He goes slowly, telegraphing his movements, until he's got her arm in his hands and is slowly turning it back and forth. The movement is slow, the skin unhurt, and when she curls her fingers around his he finally lets out a long sigh and lets himself rest his forehead against her shoulder. She doesn't start scratching at his scalp like usual, and he buries the twinge of worry. Quorra's not like Sam--whatever's bothering her will come out sooner than later. 

"Glad I didn't hurt you," he says, managing this time to keep the stutter out of his voice. 

"I should be saying that to you."

"You couldn't hurt me if you tried," he lies, and rubs her fingers between his. 

She humphs, clearly unconvinced, and they sit in silence for a while. Tron measures her breathing, feels it a moment before it catches and she blurts, "I wish Clu had changed how you look, so I don't have to--" 

She bites back the words, but he finishes it for her. "So you don't have to see Rinzler?"

"It's not your fault--"

"Not yours, either." He manages to turn the rattle into a purr, turns his head so he can meet her eyes. "It's not your fault that I look like your nightmares." 

"It's not fair!" she bursts out, slamming her free hand against the mattress. "I hate it and it's not fair!" 

"I know." He nuzzles against her neck, scoots closer so he can curve a careful arm around her waist. "But it's not your fault. Don't carry his guilt, Quorra." He manages a lopsided smile, tries to make it as sincere as he can when he catches her eye. "I have enough for the both of us, don't you think?" 

"Not _fair_ ," she hisses, fiercely as any firewall, and kisses him like she's got something to prove. He hums back into her mouth, purrs so it shudders through the both of them, lets her tangle her fingers in his hair and kiss him again and again and again. "Not _fair_ ," she growls, and he lets her push him back and climb on top, sighs against her mouth and brushes reassuring hands down her back.  

"You're not my nightmare," she tells him when she finally pulls back. "You're _not_." 

"I know," he lies, and tugs her back down so she can't read it in his eyes. 


End file.
